


The Illusion of Invisibility

by VengefulHybrid



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Angst fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-22
Updated: 2012-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-29 22:22:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VengefulHybrid/pseuds/VengefulHybrid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The team detail their time under the employment of BLU...but not everything is what they see it as.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Something I planned with a friend, entirely in capslock! It's another one of those I Can't Tell You What's Happening fics, so you're gonna have to guess I'm afraid~

-Spy-

I had just finished a conversation with our Engineer and bid him farewell when the alarm for the day’s battle went off. The same time every day, day in day out, that alarm would go off. It was tiring and frustrating, but it was better than the alternative. As I walked, I passed Sniper’s room where our dear convict was staring at his glasses. He rubbed his eyes as I watched, and then put the glasses on. He must have just woken up. How lazy. I passed our Pyro on the way to the resupply, but they were far too busy doing their own thing to acknowledge my existence, probably getting that silly rubber glove they had taken to wearing on the battlefield. It was surprising how the enemy team didn’t see him coming from a mile away, but then again they were not the stealthy type.

Not like me.

Before I reached the resupply, I took a quick look at my watch to check its charge and the time. It was gold, fairly large and cumbersome but it served its purpose. I flipped back to cloak after reading we had five minutes to go before the doors opened and all hell broke loose, then pressed the button and disappeared in a puff of red smoke.

I, personally, loved the way the cloak worked. It was flamboyant enough to look impressive without being too impractical. Admittedly it drew attention on the field but that was just another drawback of the job.

Striding into the resupply area, I gave my teammates a look over. Engineer was nowhere to be seen, probably still back where I’d left him. Medic was sharpening his scalpel blades in the corner with a nasty smile across his face. Medic was flanked by the Heavy, who was guarding his precious gun where it rested on one of the benches, as always the two never too far away from each other. Sniper sauntered in behind me with that well-worn hat in his hands. Demoman had passed out in a corner. He must have started early again today. Scout was sitting on the bench opposite from Heavy and Medic, his coarse voice easily the loudest thing in the room as he taunted the Heavy about something or other. Soldier was standing to attention by the doors, ever the sentinel. Pyro was nowhere to be seen, as usual. They often took a different method of exit than the rest of us, surprising the enemy from behind.

I let my cloak drop, nodding to Medic as he looked over at me. My team was never surprised when I appeared out of thin air. I supposed they’d just gotten used to it. We’d been together as a team for as long as I could remember, longer still even. My memory was good, I could even say fantastic. I could remember the first day Scout came to us, shouting and screaming and on the verge of tears. (He’d stopped crying now but there were days when he’d sit in the common room by the window and become totally quiet. It was disconcerting to see such an active boy fall into silence like that.) But the further back I tried to remember, the fuzzier and greyer everything became.

How long had I been here?


	2. Chapter 2

-Medic-

My scalpels feel dull again. Some days it’s hard to perform the surgeries I need to when I can’t even cut through skin with this shoddy equipment. The company sends more, they always do, but each blade is flimsier and blunter than the last. Do you know how hard it is to prise bullets from someone with a blunt scalpel? But I manage. I have to, for the team.

Thankfully Heavy lets me test my equipment on him. Most days he is content to let me slice him gently, just to see the blood flow. I still claim it’s to test the knives but he knows why I really do it. Spy probably knows too. Nothing slips past that man’s eyes. It seems he sees everything that happens in our little cluster of people. It’s quite dangerous. A man that astute should not live.

Our Engineer has not been seen for days again. Sometimes he holes himself into his workshop and only Spy goes to visit. He is a diligent man, admirable for his constant work. Sometimes it is a little hard to understand him, if he’s tired and mumbling, and at those times I will urge him to go to bed and get some well-earned rest. Sometimes it seems it is only he and I that do anything on this base.

Sniper’s problems have been getting worse. Some days he has difficulties out on the field and I catch him hiding behind a crate or a tree and just staring. He does that a lot, the staring. He was there now actually, lurking behind Spy as he did. They often stuck close to each other although mostly it was Sniper following Spy like a lost puppy. Honestly it was a shame to see a man who must’ve been so impressive during his prime degraded to a dog. Sometimes I wonder if Spy has some sort of hold on him. I watch the Australian place his hat carefully on his head and gather his equipment from his locker. The bow today, it seems. He’ll be at the front of the field then.

Soldier hasn’t moved again. He was the first one here and will be the first one out of the room. His shovel is grasped tightly in his hand like a life support. I can see the veins in his white knuckles and patches of liver spots beginning to form. Sometimes on the field I can hear him screaming things that don’t make sense. Maybe in his mind they do. I wish he would let me dissect him.

The faceless beast known as our Pyro is absent from the swath of people congregated in the resupply. I may be forced to heal them but that doesn’t mean I like them. Sometimes I will see them staring at me through the black lenses of the gasmask. Just staring. It isn’t Sniper’s blank stare into nothing, or Engineer’s focused stare, however. It is focused and almost disconcerting. As if they are looking straight through me…

I don’t trust Pyro. It feels like they know me too well, as if they could see my darkest secrets.

They mustn’t know.


	3. Chapter 3

-Sniper-

I can see Spy in front of me, puffing away on one of his fancy cigarettes that probably cost more than half my hunting equipment. Marlboro Reds. I prefer the cheaper stuff; in fact I roll my own. They taste the same anyway so I can’t see why he always gets the expensive crap. He blows the smoke over his shoulder, knowing full well I’m here. Bastard.

He greets Medic with a nod and I move away from him, keeping a hand on the wall as I walk. Our dog is sitting on the bench, growling and barking at Heavy. He barks a lot, except when he’s sitting on his mat in the common room and starts to whimper. I don’t like it when he cries. Petting his head to quiet him up, I gather my stuff from my locker and test the state of my bow. Sometimes they break overnight so I have to make another in my spare time. I like to think I’ve gotten pretty good with it. The dog even goes hunting with me sometimes.

In the corner, Demo is playing with a paper cup and muttering to himself. His bottle is on its side, empty, on the floor. I pull my quiver over my shoulder, adjusting it a little, and then go over to see him. He’s friendly enough most of the time although he can get ratty when he drinks, which is most of the time!

“How you feelin’?” I ask, sliding down next to Demo to sit on the floor.

“Not well buddeh…” He’s slurring his speech. Even though it’s fairly early he must’ve had something strong to drink already.

I pick up the bottle on the floor and sniff at it but pull it away pretty damn quickly. It smelt like paint thinner, so god only knew what was in it. Putting the bottle back on the floor, I rubbed Demo’s shoulder and supported him as he slid sideways onto me.

“Keep yer head up,” I said, edging away from his retching, but it was easier said than done.

Keeping Demo stable gave me a chance to see who was up already, although it was a little difficult this early when the shadows started creeping in. Soldier was the first to catch my attention, hat jammed firmly over his eyes and shovel gripped tightly in a fist. He really looked like he was struggling to keep back a force of pent up rage. He always did.

Sometimes I really think I’m the sanest one here. Sure, I might be heading down the path to crazy but I’m not quite there yet! The sun might have frazzled a few nerves but I’ve got my team to keep me backed up. Heck, there’s even a dog here.

I do like that dog. He’s so smart. Kind of like a person sometimes. He really likes hugs and getting fed scraps. Meat and potatoes is his favourite.

Are dogs even supposed to eat potatoes? I’m not sure. I’ll have to ask Medic, or Engie. Although Engie might not respond. He’s real quiet. Keeps to himself.

Damn does that dog seem human. He’s really howling now and Medic is snapping at him, telling him to shut up. I told him to leave off the poor thing before but he doesn’t seem to have noticed.

It must be hard being separated from your family and have an angry German bloke shout at you when you cry, but he’s got us now.

What was his name again…


	4. Chapter 4

-Demoman-

They fed me a cocktail of things I don’t care to remember, in bright rainbow colours that made a noise like rain. I can hear laughter and crying and taste the hate and anger in the air like sickly children. The tall one with the yellow bug eyes sits next to me. I can hear him ask me a question and find myself responding while behind the wall I scream

_LET ME OUT_

but to no avail. They can’t hear me behind the candy colour rain. Not even the one crying with his two stick limbs and disjointed laughter like crows.

They tell me to drink, drink, drink the pain away so I do. I drink what they give me, the men in blue and the woman in heather flowers. Always with the sweet words and kindness like blossoming weeds at her feet like she doesn’t know what she’s doing, to me, to us, to them.

They told me I was mad. Sometimes I find myself agreeing but all I did was blow up one little lake and they sent me here with them, the real mad ones in this place.

The one with the voice that tastes like hatred’s words spiral around my head and flitter through the air. Butterflies in red and black. He’s saying something to the group but I couldn’t care less because there’s something fluffy and white but maybe red as well _fireIcantasteitintheairit’sbreathingfireatme_ sitting opposite me and slumped over. The others talk to this thing like it’s alive.

Is it? Is it alive?

I can feel my body slump like a corpse, shudders of something that should be pain and bile running up my throat and splattering in front of me and the tall one. It looks red, rivulets of it threading into cracks in the floor that I didn’t even know were there. I don’t think anyone does. I feel a noise, vibrations through the air, and smell the brightly coloured neon lights of the angry one’s revulsion. I think he spat at me.

It’s too much, too soon and I’m collapsing backwards.

I miss the heat of explosions, the way shards of sharp fire tear through the air like bird wings.

Maybe the one with the stick limbs is right.

Maybe we’re all mad.


End file.
